Problems of a Dual Nature
by KcirdorbRothwik
Summary: Officer Nathaniel Thack is, through gross incompetence, the cause of a Xenomorph outbreak. The outbreak has now been contained, but the company isn't too happy with Nate right about now. Scheduled for execution, Nate finds himself on the receiving end of alien facehugger. Fortunately for Nate, fortune has decided Nate still has some unfinished business.
1. Pilot

**Author's Note: I have observed that the ****foreword of a story is generally easy to understand and efficiently transmutes the author's incomprehensible neuron firings into plausible and reasonably composed vernacular. In a egotistical, but ultimately futile gesture of narcissistic despotism, I have determined that proceeding to do the very opposite of the aforementioned standard would doubtless antagonize a certain percentage of the audience, but nonetheless would bring excitement and satisfaction into the existence of subject A, the writer. Okay, you can uncover your ears, I'm done now. First (posted) story, w00t! Enjoy. Review! Flames (in tandem with common conventional fuel sources) will be used to heat the homes of the poor.**

**Another Author's Note: Writing those first two lines was fun, sorry for any bruised cranial matter. No thesauruses were consulted or harmed in the making of this foreword.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Aliens, Google, Chrome, or stuff like that. The plot and the characters, as well as their respective predicaments, are mine. Do I really need this?**

Nate carefully opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light shining directly at his face. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, a stark white metal room, with what appeared to be a blast door worthy of bomb shelter mounted in the far wall. Attempting to shield his eyes with his hands proved that he was indeed strapped to a wall. A single reinforced one way mirror was embedded within the left wall.

"Crap." Sweat instantly began beading on Nate's forehead as, with trepidation and horror, he recognized where he was. Frantically searching about the room, he found what he hoped he wouldn't, his eyes settling on the husk of a dead facehugger in the corner.

"Help me..." He groaned weakly into the air. Already he began to feel short of breath, and a tightness in his chest.

He felt a hammering in his sternum, or was that his heart beating its way out of him? No, just his heart. It had to be. It couldn't develop that fast could it? Not without a hive to guide it, Nate decided. He supposed that was a benefit to the failed containment of the Xenomorph specimens. That breakout had been his fault, and that was why he was now strapped to a wall, aiding in the repopulation of the Xenomorph hive. The company had been forced to destroy the entire research lab using high explosives. Only Nate, Natasha, and a few other scientists working in the station had been able to evacuate before the Xenos and the following destruction of the station wiped out 95% of the research and security teams.

The feeling of weight on his chest began to increase, his breath quickening, and a layer of cold sweat coating his forehead, his fear compounding. For a security officer, he was pretty cowardly when it came to impending doom. The overall effect of fear, the restraints, and shallow breathing apparently began to take its toll.

A blinding headache seemed to form out of nowhere, rivaling the pain felt when he had received a concussion while employed as a construction worker. Groaning in agony, he almost forgot that sometime within the next several minutes, a ravenous Xenomorph larvae was going to burst out from within his chest cavity, and eat his corpse. Or was it an embryo? Xenobiology was never his strong suit, that was why he was a lowly security guard, tasked with the protection of the people who knew what they were doing.

His headache worsened, temporarily blinding him. As his vision slowly returned and the pain receded, slightly, Nate prayed he wouldn't pass out. Or did he want to pass out?Then, he wouldn't feel anything when the time came for the larvae, or Chestburster as it was dubbed by some of Nate's now-deceased colleagues, to "make an entrance".

Nate was now convinced that the searing pain originating from within his skull was actually a multi-dimensional being exerting his will towards the purpose of Nate's complete and utter destruction. Or was it a migraine? What constituted a migraine, and what was the difference anyway? The pain within his head doubled; it felt like it was splitting in two! Oh, god! It couldn't actually split in two, right? Clenching his eyes shut against the pain and the self-induced fear, he hastily performed a mental exercise he came up with a couple years ago. In his mind he took a series of highly illogical statements, and, disregarding common medical knowledge and several horror films, therefor disproved the possibility of a head being split through any known means.

Slowing his breathing and calming his rapid breathing seemed to help with the pain a little, but the pain was still greater than almost anything he had ever experienced. The pain felt upon death of his late wife, Jenna, could never be surpassed. Even thinking about her made tears well within his eyes. Compared to the agony felt at her death, and the subsequent years without her love, the pain with his head no longer felt so great.

A spike of pain, so great that words fail to do it justice. Sight returning to his eyes, he throat felt raw, and realized he had probably screamed loud enough to be heard at least two cells away.

* * *

A loud scream jolted Wellan awake. Reclined in a computer chair at the control console, feet on the counter above, he had fallen asleep at the console. A real shame too, he would've missed all the fun. Fortunately, the rather unfortunate soul, the man Nathaniel, had been kind enough to give him a wake up call.

Assuming the moment was near, Wellan activated the audio-visual recorders placed within the reinforced cell, both for scientific purposes, and so they could make an example of the former guard restrained within the chamber. The company had lost an entire complex because of him, and 200 of the company's best researchers, xenobiologists, and geneticists with it.

Arming the remote gas containers throughout the room so the Xenomorph could be retrieved once it had emerged from its host, Wellan sat back and waited for the fun to begin. When he'd heard that scream, he'd through he'd been too late, but no erupting Chestburster yet. He now took a moment to examine today's entertainment, he was simply a "specimen" to others, but Wellan took his entertainment when he could get it. The man, clothed in a gray and white uniform resembling a prisoner's, was brown haired and brown eyed, modestly tall, and slim built. Pale and writhing in pain, the man appeared to be in mortal agony.

"It'll be any minute now" Wellan chuckled. Judging by the amount of pain the man appeared to be in, Wellan wouldn't be surprised to learn that the Chestburster inside was deliberately prolonging the man's suffering.

After several more minutes of otherwise inactivity, Wellan soon grew bored of the prisoner's writhing. Leaning back in his chair, he never even noticed as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Agony coursed through Nate's veins. Thrashing weakly in his bonds, his eyes gazed sightlessly about the room. Another spike of intense pain jolted him, arms straining against his bonds, then something... clicked, and the pain disappeared.

He let his head sag in his restraints, arms going limp. Breathing heavily, he briefly thanked the powers-that-be, and considered what had just happened. Minor stroke? No, that was ridiculous. It was like nothing he had ever seen or heard of before, and he'd be a Xenomorph's mother if it didn't... oh. Wait. He WAS a Xenomorph's mother. Well. Hmm. He'd be a, umm, elephant's cousin if that little episode didn't have to do with the Chestburster he was carrying around in his body.

Well, as the Chestburster didn't seem inclined to kill him right now, he figured he better get some sleep, though doing so while strapped to a wall was going to hurt like hell later. Along with how worn out his muscles doubtlessly were, it might even rival what he had felt just moments ago. Trying to find a comfortable position, Nate settled down and painfully drifted off to sleep.

**END OF CHAPTER 1**

** Author's Note: Had some trouble with Nate's emotions and state of mind, he seemed to almost go from lucid to delirious and back again. Read, Review, and tell me if you agree with my previous statement, and suggestions on how to fix said problem would be much appreciated. Flames (along with other electronic based fuel sources) will be used to cook bacon, and as such will be still accepted, if not as much appreciated. On a side note, I think Google is screwing with me. Chrome told that "sightlessly" and "repopulation" were misspelled. I wouldn't know though...**

**Hindsight Edit, about 2 Hours after posting: Even though I've already got an idea of where I want to take this (won't say for cliffhangger-type reasons), I could, at this point, swing it basically any way I want to. Any suggestions?**

**Hindsight Edit, about 12 Hours after posting: Figured out how to put a real line break, got rid of the "**BREAK**" throughout the story. **


	2. An Interesting Develpoment

******Author's Note: Wow. This ended up a lot longer than I originally expected. Yay! I didn't ditch the original characters, just gotta lay down some more plot. Much thanks to "Casual Reader" and "michael343334" for reviews! Your compliments, Casual Reader, definitely helped my motivation to finish this chapter up so quickly. Also, michael, I hope by posting this, that I have made it clear that this IS a series. Read and Review! Again! Flames shall be used to power the steam engine providing power to my laptop. Full sentences in italics are thoughts. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Aliens. I mean, I own aliens (the small parasite currently referred to as "chestburster" living inside Nathaniel), just not Aliens, the company. The characters are mine, the plot is mine, the crab from ****_Finding Nemo_**** is MINE! ****_Finding Nemo_**** is not mine. The Cheerios company does not belong to me. _Star Wars _does not belong to me.**

"Its too early in the morning to be getting up..." Grumbling, Natasha noncommittally pulled herself out of bed to reach for her alarm. Finding it not there, however, presented a problem. Still going off, but not in the place it should be, meant that she had to actually get up to turn it off. She lurched out of bed, shuffled over to the light switch, flipped it, found her alarm (Beneath her bed!?), and promptly shut it off. Sitting, but not laying, back down on her bed, she rested her head in her hands. Rubbing her eyes, she rose, stretching, almost like a cat. That alarm was probably loud enough to wake up some of her colleagues, and they would probably torment her for it sometime later.

Grabbing her glasses, she began to run through the normal morning routine, get clothes, take shower, get dressed. She exchanged her _Star Wars: A New Hope _stormtrooper pajamas for a brown turtleneck and jeans. Those pajamas had been the source of several months worth of teasing, as well as quite a few practical jokes. Worth it. For breakfast she had the same meal she did everyday, Cheerios with milk and a banana with peanut butter. Getting ready in the morning really wasn't that hard for her. She had a darker complexion and light brown eyes. Her hair was brown and came down to middle of her back; she preferred to put it into a single large ponytail running down the center of her back. She washed her face, and braided her hair. Ready to walk out the door, she nearly forgot to brush her teeth.

Leaving her rooms she went about her daily research, most of which she had researched in the past, but now had to rediscover due to the loss of all the data in the recent Xenomorph breakout. Moving through her work mechanically, her mind continued on the subject of the Xenomorph breakout. True, it had been Nathaniel's fault, but killing him with one of those, those _monsters_, was just vicious. The fact that anyone at all made it out of that deathtrap of a research facility was a miracle in and of itself, the fact that Nathaniel was the one that pulled it off was just short of divine intervention. Honestly, the Company should be giving him a medal, not letting an alien impregnate him and smash its way out his chest, recording his death for public display, but she definitely wasn't going to be the one to complain. Nathaniel having been scheduled to be executed (she would call it execution, because that's what it was) roughly 6 hours ago, She resolved to go and pay her last respects to his remains during her free period, in about a half hour.

The remaining work passed in a blur, simple re-cataloging of data collected on Xenomorphs she had memorized. Whilst she worked, she allowed her mind to wander, hitting quite a few points on Star Wars. Mostly how if Jango Fett _didn't_ get run over by that bull-thing, there was no way Mace Windu would've been able to kill him. She also spent quite a few of those minutes stoking her rage against the Company, and how she could voice a complaint without meeting the same fate as Nathaniel.

* * *

Walking down the hallways, she double checked the map she'd has to pull up on her iPhone **(ugh. do I really need to say that I don't own Apple?) **The hallways look similar enough to the previous lab, yet their layout was completely different, leading to her having to ask for direction on five different occasions. Fortunately, she had no problems admitting when she needed help, honestly, was it some form of honor for men not to ask for directions? After about five minutes of wandering haplessly, and about two after she had lost all hope of ever returning from this maze alive, she found the door marked "Containment Room 387". She opened the door, and stopped, surprised by the sight of a reclined, sleeping man in a computer chair.

"Hey! Get up!" She shouted. "Wha, what? Ahh!" The man's confused questioning was cut short when his motion toppled his chair backward, leaving him dazed, confused, and likely with a minor concussion, judging by the concrete floor and the volume of the _very_ satisfying thump the man made. _Wow. I really stoked myself into fury, didn't I? _Ignoring the miscellaneous thought, she returned her attention back to the groaning man lying in front of her.

"What, did I miss it? Aww, I haven't gotten to see a live eruption in like, I dunno, a month or something," the man grumbled.

"You think this a game or something!?" _Please tell me this guy is SEVERELY concussed, and is spouting nonsense. _But something about him, something about his speech convinced her that he was lucid enough to know what he was saying.

"If you wanted to see it you coulda just asked, no need to flip out on me..." He mumbled. _He thinks I'm mad because I didn't see a man die in a spray of bloody agony? Actually, lets play this a little further, see what happens..._

"Your right, I'm sorry, I shouldn't of flipped on you. Names Natasha." She said, trying to sound smooth. Helping him to his feet, she waited for his response.

"Natasha, sounds familiar. Anyway, mines Wellan" he responded, sounding a more than a little confused when he mentioned her familiarity. She caught sight of one of the status monitors upon which Wellan had been resting his feet before his fall.

Surprise jolted her upright. According to this, the person contained within the containment chamber was still alive, if asleep.

"What're you lookin at?" Wellan slurred slightly turning his head. _I think he actually IS concussed..._

"Nothing,"'she hastily stammered out, drawing his attention away from the status monitors, "Come on, you should head over to the infirmary." _I can take a closer look once he's gone..._

"Yeah, I think your right..." And without another word, Wellan stumbled off in the general direction she had started from. _That went surprising well..._

When she was sure that Wellan was gone, she went over to the main view port, and hesitantly looked into the chamber. Nathaniel hung, suspended from the wall with various restraints and ties. His face was deathly pale, and seemed to be having troubled dreams. Aside from that, he looked all right though, heart rate normal, respiration stable. Everything looked great actually. Even blood pressure. Surprising, seeing as he had a alien larvae growing in his chest, one that eventually would kill him by smashing its way out his chest.

"Man these guys must really be running late. In his current state, I'd say the embryo was implanted about a half hour ago." Knowing he has about a hour and a half left to live made tears well in her eyes. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry. She wanted desperately to walk out, right now, and try to forget the man about to die in the very building she lived in. The man who forgot to lock down the Xenomorph pens. The man who saved her life. The man who she was in love with. She collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

Nate dreamed. He dreamed of happiness, of despair, of love, of friendship. But in every dream, waited a Xenomorph. In nightmares, It lurked in the darkness, pinning him to the wall with a lightning fast tail strike. In dreams of friendship, he sat in a stereotypical suburban house, chatting happily with Natasha, while a black shadow darts past a window. In dreams of despair, he watched, again and again, as Natasha, the only woman who he ever felt might love and care for him as Jenna did, died screaming, an Alien exploding out from within her. In dreams of love, he married Natasha, a perfect wedding. But through the stained glass windows of the church, he could see the Xenomorph, and somehow, he knew that it wept. In the moment of his deepest sleep, in the place where dreams don't exist, and and even the deepest shadow fails, Nate opened his eyes.

He looked upon a familiar landscape. rolling hills forested with trees continued into the horizon, the sky bright blue, with puffy white clouds meandering lazily across the sky. The trees were speckled with green, yellow, and red, signs of the advent of fall. Birds chirped back and forth, flitting about on branches, while squirrels greedily collected nuts and other foodstuffs for the coming winter. A cool breeze washed across Nate's face, chilling his skin pleasantly. Though he had never before seen these hills, and could not place where it most resembled, he felt innately felt at home amongst the trees.

Walking forward, he aimlessly wandered through the short underbrush, none of which seeming to bother the wildlife flitting about him in the least. The relaxing stroll came to a stop as he entered a small clearing, trees spaced evenly around edges of the small area of open grass. A rustling from the opposite end of the clearing drew his attention. The underbrush parted to reveal the shiny black carapace of a Xenomorph. Acting surprisingly calm, the Xenomorph, almost seeming to stroll, wandered around seeming to sniff at the wildlife and underbrush. It rose to two legs as a bird flashed above its head, head following the birds movement till it faded from sight. It almost seemed confused at the wildlife that treated it as no threat, but seemed uninclined to prove otherwise. Not just _a _Xenomorph, _the _Xenomorph, _his_ Xenomorph. A light bulb flicked on in his head. There was a reason it just felt, _right_, to call it his. And that same reason was also why it was here, in the deepest recesses of his mind, a place even he had never seen before.

That Xenomorph, is what the _chestburster inside him_ would eventually grow into. As he came to this conclusion, he felt the urge to approach it. Even though logic told him other wise, his instincts told him that it wouldn't harm him. His Xenomorph was occupied by the various plants and animals foreign to it to such an extent that he got within ten feet of it before it noted his presence. Dropping to all fours, it warily approached him, tail twitching. He smiled, noting its almost feline mannerisms. He crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, reaching out to stroke its smooth eyeless carapace. It hissed, backing cautiously away, then slowly edged its head, meeting his hand. As they connected he felt a deep resonance, almost an echo, or a whisper. He felt trace of, contentment, happiness, and a deep, insatiable curiosity. Emotions, he realized, which originated from the Xenomorph.

Pondering this thought, he absently stroked his Xenomorph's smooth skull. Now free of any sense of danger, it moved closer rubbing its head along his stomach. He paused, listening closely, noting a deep rumbling in the air. With shock, he realized the Xenomorph had begun to purr. Almost unnoticeable, it was a deep bass, like standing next to a subwoofer. He stood, it following suit, rising two two legs. It was actually shorter than him, likely due to its immaturity. Despite that his previous research station had housed Xenomorphs, he had never really taken the time to look at them. His Xenomorph was completely encased in black chitin, and possessed a long spike-tipped, ridged tail. Its head was elongated, like a stretched human skull. He smiled, strolling contentedly along with his Xenomorph.

**Author's Note: No, he isn't dead. Well. This will probably go down as one of my all time favorite things to read (or write). Turned out really different than I first envisioned, different but better. It's not over yet! Fun side note: That thing with her alarm clock, that happened to me Monday morning. Flames (in accordance with common open-flame cooking guidelines) will be used to grill steak, pork kabobs, and pineapples. Gotta name the Xenomorph. Ah brainstorming time...  
**

**Hindsight Edit, about 3 hours after posting: I forgot to accept flames!**

**-flames acceptance added**


	3. Deus ex Machina

**Author's Note: I often begin these writing sessions by talking to myself. Because I never remember where I left off, it often goes like this: "Previously on Dual Nature..." (Might rename it just "Dual Nature") then I try and recount everything I just wrote. From there I end up deciding where to continue from, character wise. BeeTeeDubs, I decided to set this in modern day Earth, partially because it eliminates any possible need for space travel, but also because I like earth the way it is. Flames will be used to propagate launching a Clean Mk2 Conventional Missile.**

**Disclaimer: Only the plot, characters, ideas, and writing belong to me. Anything else is fair game. Or not mine.**

As they entered the trees, Man and Xenomorph faded away, like Mist under a hot sun. As normal dreams and nightmares reasserted themselves in the field of Nate's dreamscape, the memory of his encounter with the Xenomorph, his Xenomorph, never left him.

He woke, as cramped and sore as he had earlier expected. Told you so… muttered his agnostic side. He yawned, stretching out as far as his restraints would allow. Oh, that's right. I'm tied to a wall. With an alien larvae gestating inside me. But somehow, mention of the chestburster didn't cause the fear and repulsion that was usually associated with the extraterrestrial parasite. Curiously enough, he could still feel the same emotions he had felt emanating from the Xenomorph during his vision. Based on what he saw and felt throughout his subconscious, he was fairly sure that the chestburster wouldn't kill him, if it could help it. He was obviously no Xenobiologist, so he had no idea how long a chestburster could stay inside of its host. Hopefully long enough for someone to notice that he was still alive.

* * *

Natasha lay with her back against her console, curled into a fetal position. She had allowed her tears to dry, leaving a salty residue on her cheeks. She wiped her eyes, puffy and sensitive, and pushed herself up with one hand. She leaned on her elbows, resting her head in her hands.

"How can I go on like this?" She wailed. She shook, more tears welling from her eyes as she sobbed. An icon flashing in the corner of her vision caught her attention; she turned to it noncommittally, expecting a cardiac arrest warning. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she identified that it was actually telling her that the recording device for the chamber was still active. I guess they weren't joking when they said they'd show everyone what happens when you foul up. She stopped the recording, then rewound till she found the time where facehugger latched onto Nate. It took quite a while.

Watching the timer, she was surprised to find that Nate had been impregnated over 8 hours ago. It baffled her. The only plausible reason that he could still be alive was that the chestburster died inside him, or that it somehow required more time to reach "critical mass" if you will. Rushing over to the holding cell entrance, she slapped the air lock release button. With a hiss of escaping steam, the airlock door retracted into the ceiling. When the airlock's quarantine sequence was complete, she released the inner door and entered the chamber.

Surprising her, Nathaniel looked up, meeting her eyes. He cracked a half-smile, and croaked out jokingly, "Is it bad, doc?"

"You know full well that I'm not that kind of doctor," she was proud that her voice barely quivered, "and this is no time for jokes." She reprimanded him. "Come on. Let's get you off of there."

"But you haven't kissed me yet!" He half-heartedly protested as she loosened the restraints on his wrists and ankles.

"Come now, is this really necessary? Fine, if you insist." Without warning, she leaned over and quickly pecked him once on the lips. Removing the straps on his head, she smiled slightly at his speechless expression. He winced slightly, and rubbed his forehead, as if he were pained, and didn't know why.

"Nathaniel, you okay? Is the chestburster coming out?!" She fearfully demanded.

"No, no, I'm fine." He quickly reassured her, "It's just, I felt, like, never mind. It isn't important right now."

"Okay, if you say you feel fine…" she trailed off, then picked back up in a lighter tone, "Then let's get moving, I think your chestburster could be extracted, but I'll have to run some tests first."

"So, first problem: actually getting to my lab."

* * *

After several wrong turns, and a couple near encounters with guard patrols, they finally reached Natasha's lab. It looked exactly like what one might expect a lab making biological weapons to look like, despite the fact that nothing of the sort was actually being researched. "Lay down," Natasha instructed. Nate complied, lying as motionless as possible on the examination mat. The hard pallet was cold to his skin, and seemed to be chilling him to the bone; he even began feeling hints of cold though his "link" with what he was pretty sure was the chestburster.

"Hmm. What could I use," Natasha muttered thoughtfully, "Maybe an x-ray…"

"Have you done those before?" Nate concernedly asked, Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. _No we definitely don't need to do this save me. In fact I could just go back and strap myself back onto that wall. I should be fine._ An almost sense of confusion, seemed to come from within, a sensation he recognized as an emotion originating from the Xenomorph.

Natasha piped up, "Of course. All the time on the Xenomorph cadavers."

Muttering sarcastically, Nate spat out, "Oh, that's really encouraging."

"They were dead to begin with!"

"No, It's the concept of it!"

Reaching beyond Nate's field of vision, Natasha snagged a rather large and dangerous looking apparatus that he assumed was an X-ray emitter. She expertly wheeled the machine around, swinging out the arm that actually fired the X-rays, and pointed it directly at his chest. Honestly, from what he could see of her face, she looked like she could be taking a picture of something rather boring and dull, such as a spider smeared across the floor.

She shifted the camera-like apparatus; he assumed that she was taking shots from multiple angles.

"Brand new technology too, it feeds the information directly into the computer, which then analyzes and archives the data." Returning the X-ray scanner to its normal placement, she shifted herself over to the computer to access the data in question. "Let's fire this bad boy up." Natasha pulled up one of the X-ray photos on a nearby desktop. She peered at it, intent upon her work.

"Peculiar. From what I know of Xenomorphs, quite a bit by the way, it's a completely formed, quite healthy chestburster. I can't fathom any reason why it hasn't erupted yet, but since it hasn't, there is a chance it simply might not." Natasha perplexedly relayed. Nate had a hunch, but he wasn't about to voice it with just a dream as proof.

Natasha resumed speaking, "Well either way, I think we can have the chestburster extracted."

"Well, can we do it here?" Nate asked hesitantly.

"For the second time today, I am not that kind of doctor. If you want someone to cut open your corpse and see what makes you tick, then I'm your woman. Live subjects? Not so much. I get all jittery and nervous. Fortunately, all medical personnel, regardless of profession, are trained in engaging and operating an Autodoc."

"God I hate those things..." Nate muttered under his breath.

Not hearing his comment, Natasha continued unhindered, "They have one in most of the operation rooms. The nearest one is about four intersections away, in one of the more crowded sections of the laboratory, which might prove a problem getting there."

"Doesn't anyone sleep around here?!"

Blushing, Natasha sheepishly replied, "Well, I suppose we could wait till later, and try and perform the surgery while everyone is sleeping."

After several quiet minutes, Nate asked, "Are we going to wait here, or could we go back to your rooms?"

Hesitantly, Natasha responded with, "We could go back to my quarters of course. My rooms are right across the hall. I've actually never had a man invite himself into my room, or come inside at all for that matter."

He flashed her what he hoped was a winning smile.

She laughed at his expression, "Come on Cassanova. Lets move it."

* * *

Colin clenched his eyes, yawning tiredly. He was surprisingly tired, despite a good night's rest. He yawned deeply again, stretching his arms. He continued down the hallway, checking the locks on the Xenomorph pens with his flashlight, and securing the unlocked gates. _Check. Check. Check. Lock and check. Checkaroo. Wait. What the..._

The next Xenomorph pen was open, gate swinging loosely in one of the breezes that occasionally permeated these hallways. The customary titanium lock above the handle was gone. Completely. As was the handle. As quietly as he could manage, Colin slipped his pistol out of its holster, eyes darting about the hallway.

What idiot decided that it was a good idea to build this section without any lights? The isn't even a place we could put the lights if we wanted to install them. He cautiously thumbed his mike, "Sir, one of the Xenomorph pens, it's op-." He stopped short, looking down at the bladed tail protruding from his chest. The pistol slipped from his unfeeling fingers. He tried to say something, but all that came from his lips was blood.

* * *

Obviously trying not to offend her, Nathaniel searched for the right words, "Well. Your rooms certainly are... cozy."

Nathaniel and Natasha sat in her bedroom, chatting lightly. For the last hour or so, they had talked about various subjects; biology, that had been short lived; their lives outside the complex, also a mood killer; Xenomorph embryos and how they affected their hosts, a little awkward, seeing as he had one inside his chest. The thing they most discussed, unsurprisingly enough, was Star Wars. They both had a fairly strong reverence for the series, and had taken actions to strengthen it. She had decked out most of her room with posters, commemorative flyers, photos, and even action figures and Lego's. He had done quite a bit less in the direction she had taken, and had instead played every Star Wars video game on the market. So far, Knights of the Old Republic was still best.

"I never actually beat the game, I always got stuck on the final boss, and I tried to beat him like five times. This one time, I was, like, two hits away from killing him, when-", he choked his words off, grimacing in pain and wrapping his arms around his stomach.

"Nathaniel!" She screamed.

The pain seemed to recede, and he resumed breathing, though quite heavily, nearly hyperventilating. "Whooo! That felt great. How 'bout we go take this thing out now? I'd prefer not to wait any longer at this point."

Quite shaken, Natasha choked out, "I couldn't agree more."

Both stood, Nathaniel appearing to test his legs before placing his entire weight on them. "Where's the operation room?"

"Not too far. I don't think anybody will recognize you, it's been long enough."

Both stood stock still as the intercom blared to life above their heads._ "Class one outbreak confirmed in sector 6! All non-combat personnel to report to designated evacuation ports. This is not a drill!"_ The intercom was drowned out by the shrill sound of a siren. Nathaniel cursed, swearing vigorously, then turned his head towards Natasha, "Perchance, what sector are we in?"

"Six..."

He slowly covered his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great. Well it's not like this changes anything. Keep going."

"What?!" She stuttered out a nearly unintelligible argument, "Class one is a Xenomorph breakout! We can't stay here!"

"I'm not sure if "junior" here can stay here much longer either, if you catch my drift," indicating the Chestburster.

She paled, "Right, well, one bridge at a time. Lets go."

They ran out of her rooms into a deserted hallway. "Wow. They move fast," remarked Nathaniel.

"Everyone rational," here shooting daggers at Nathaniel, "is rightfully afraid of them."

"Hmph." Nathaniel grunted.

They sprinted down the corridor, Nathaniel pausing every once in awhile to catch his breath. They came to a large metal door after several hallways.

"Here. Let's get this done."

Just as Natasha reached for the door, they heard footsteps behind them. "Halt!"

Turning to look, they saw several heavily armed marines run down the corridor behind them. One of the soldiers yelled to them, "You civilians need to get out of here! They're gonna self-destruct this level once its evacuated!"

Once they came closer, Natasha replied with, "I have important and valuable research inside, and this man needs surgery, I believe his appendix may burst!"

Growling, the lead marine barked out, "Fine! Hurry up with it though! The sooner we get outta here, the less of us will get slaughtered!"

A loud rumble echoed through the facility, and the lights went out. Natasha screamed, but thankfully the emergency lights kicked in moments later. The lower power lights gave off an macabre red ambient light, but were weak enough that large pools of shadow still permeated the hallways.

Yelling at Natasha, the lead marine snarled, "What're you waiting for!? Lets get going!"

"Al-, Alright." As she reached for the open button, she was once again interrupted, this time by one of the doors on the side of the hallway exploding outwards in a spray of metal. An unearthly screeching wail preempted a Xenomorph barreling through the now-unoccupied door frame. It tackled one marine, killing it with a thrusted tongue through the marine's skull. The other marines quickly peppered it with bullets, but most simply pinged of its hard chitinous exoskeleton. It screeched once more, and darted off into the black abyss of the hallways.

"I- I need help!" Natasha turned her head towards the plea for assistance. Nathaniel had slumped to the ground, back pressed up against the wall. He clutched something sticking from his chest. The chestburster? No... Between his hands, he gripped a large jagged piece of shrapnel. "Agghh!" Screaming, he held onto the metal with a death grip. Two marines ran over, one restraining Nathaniel to stop him from thrashing.

"Administer heavy painkillers, we need to take it out so he can be moved."

The marines shot a vial of a clear liquid into his arm, and Nathaniel slumped into unconsciousness. They worked quickly and efficiently, removing the metal, which was bent like a half piece of t-bar, and filling the wound with bio-foam to stop the bleeding.

A strong arm gripped Natasha's shoulder, propelling her through the opened medical bay doors. The rest of the marines followed, carrying Nathaniel with them. The doors closed behind them, sealing the survivors in.

* * *

Nate's eye's opened blearily, easily adjusting to the red light. The pain in his chest was almost minuscule when the headache the previous day, but still hurt. He looked down at the wound, which he assumed was wrapped with gauze. Instead, he saw only bio-foam, with a large hole bored through. _Ah. Well that solves one problem. _

"Anyone else alive here?" Nate asked out loud. Natasha appeared at his side, looking concerned.

"What did you do to your chest!?"

"Nothing. I just woke up. On the bright side, I'm assuming this implies I am no longer the unwilling host of a chestburster though."

She looked confused, then shocked, then happy, in that order. "Well. Some good news, finally. Put on a shirt though, we can't let the others know."

He quickly slipped on a shirt she handed to him.

"Here's the lowdown on our situation. The self destruct was disarmed when the generator was destroyed, why they wired it to that, I'll never know. So we're trapped in this level till we can find a way out. So, basically, we gotta fight a full Xenomorph hive with a few guns and a couple knives. Well, not a full hive, there's no queen, so that's one thing going for us."

A quiet screeching noise interrupted their conversation, and a small black form scuttled out of the darkness. Natasha stumbled backwards, stunned into silence. Nate smiled inwardly as he felt emotions streaming through his "bond" with the Xenomorph. Happiness, Protectiveness, Contentment. _Thought this might happen afterward._ Natasha's eyes grew even larger as he lightly pet the Xenomorph's elongated skull. His fingers encountered a light resistance, and looking closer, he could see a white line running lengthwise along her head. _Her head? Hmm. Why not? _The line almost resembled scar tissue.

"Don't tell anyone, I'll explain later, but we should leave. A larger party is more likely to attract attention than just the three of us. And who knows what their motives might be."

Natasha nodded, and helped Nate to his feet and towards the door, with the fledgling Xenomorph perched bird-like on Nate's shoulder. In what could easily be the dead of night, or the middle of the day, Man, Woman ,and Xenomorph slipped away into the shadows, fading away, like Mist, under a hot sun...

* * *

**Author's Note: I just realized I gave all the main protagonists names that start with N. Not including the cute little Xeno, whose name I've already decided upon. I had a bit of a Deus ex Machina moment there, not in the story, but in real life. I had kind of written myself into a dead end hallway with a Xenomorph on my heels (metaphorically speaking), when out of the blue, I get an email saying that a one "Casual Reader" has commented upon a previous chapter (number 2). Okay, I'll read it; maybe a plot will spring forth from my mind in an Athena-from-Zeus's-forehead type moment. The important part went something like exactly this:**

"…Nate is wounded in an escape, and enough damage is done to his ribs that the baby escapes through the hole/wound, without him dying. A shotgun at close range would make such a wound, or a grenade."

-Casual Reader

**And that provided a viable alternative to surgery, which led me to thinking up the plots current field. Kudos to "Casual Reader" for the plot assist, and to "01010010 01100001" for the boost in motivation needed to sit down and bang this out. Read, Review, and most of all, Enjoy! Flames will be used to make bacon. Again. For the first time. Ish. **

**P.S. Big Brownie Points to whomever can tell me the name of the book from which I made an Allusion to in the first and last paragraphs. (Maria98, you don't count, because I know that you know.**

**Another P.S. Got bored for about 10 minutes, so I wrote a story within a story on the side of another story. I don't think its classified as a real FanFiction since it's a FanFiction of my own story. If you wanna read it, it's on my profile page. Might keep it going.**

**Fix: Last paragraph in Natasha's POV, I flipped Nathaniel's name to Nathan. Whoops.**

* * *

**Response to Questions in Reviews:**

01010010 01100001:

"I'm enjoying this so far and it certainly has potential to be a great work of fanfiction. Also, I couldn't find any significant grammatical errors within the story (something that makes my blood boil and causes me to froth at the mouth) so very well done indeed.

However, one thing I did note is this "her iPhone", if this is the future; why does she have an iPhone?"

**The reason is simple, but I didn't announce it yet. They aren't in the future. Plain old earth. In a very deep laboratory though, with a few miles of bedrock separating them from the surface. Think Aperture Science's Enrichment Center. **


	4. Midnight Rose

**Contest: Solve the Allusion, name the book or series it's from, and I shall grant you a literary boon! The book is semi-obscure. More details back in Chapter 3. Hint: It's the third book of a trilogy...**

**Author's Note: Done! Chapter 4 is out! Now on to Chapter 5. Thanks to "Casual Reader", "Guest", "Alien Fan", and "Xeno Tyrant" for reviewing! Whoo! This was kinda tough to type, only because I was really busy though, so there shouldn't be a decrease in quality. An increase actually, since I'm extensively reviewing it this time. Read, Review, most of all, Enjoy! Flames will be used for lighting in the eternal midnight of Natasha and Nathaniel's lives. So. Another Chapter. The plot begins to unfold...**

**Disclaimer: Only the plot, characters, wording, and story belong to me. Anything else isn't mine to give.**

**CHAPTER 4: Midnight Rose**

Nate shuffled down the corridor, needing Natasha increasingly for support. He had been forced to move the Xenomorph from his shoulder once his wound had begun to give him trouble walking.

"Where-, where are we going?" Nate asked blearily.

"My lab, I can treat your wounds there, and you need somewhere to rest."

Nate nodded, blinking, and his vision blackened momentarily.

"Nathaniel! Listen to me! You need to stay awake! We're almost there. Look, it's right there!"

He shook his head, dispelling the black dots in front of his eyes. Looking where she pointed, he saw the door open to her lab. The little Xeno scuttled on all fours to the door, examining the rooms in detail, rubbing up against the door frame, just as a cat would. Nate painfully limped the last few feet through the door and to the chair by her desk, which he wearily collapsed into. Entering the room, Natasha flipped the light switch about four times before remembering that the power was out.

"Now I know why they made us keep these in our rooms". Opening a drawer in her desk, she pulled out several glowsticks and activated them, placing them about the room. She moved to the door, swinging it shut. The electronic lock was inoperable, but the door was also equipped with a deadbolt, which Natasha engaged.

"It won't hold them long, but it's better than nothing."

She rummaged around in her cabinets, and finally returned to Nate's side with a roll of gauze tape, binding it tightly around his stomach. She returned the remaining cloth to her cabinets, pulling out a small syringe filled with a deceptively safe looking liquid. Natasha said something inaudible, returning to his side. Looking up at her, Nate could see her lips moving, but no sound seemed to reach his ears.

She grabbed his arm, swabbed it quickly, and injected the needle into his arm. A midnight-crimson head popped up over the railing of the chair, worry seeping through his bond with the feline-esqe Xenomorph. The world rippled, and everything fuzzed. The last thing he saw was the worried expression on Natasha's face.

* * *

Drone saw consciousness fade from the eyes of her symbiote, becoming dull, lids drooping. Screeching her alarm, she jumped onto his lap. From her proximity to him, she could actually feel his reverberating life beat. Unconvinced, she watched him for several minutes. Nothing more happened. More reassured of his survival, Drone hopped down from his lap, feeling the female host's eyes watching her as she wandered the room. Finding a good place to bed down, a bound sheaf of papers, she waited for her counterpart to wake from his stupor. Lashing her tail, she resigned herself to waiting.

* * *

Natasha continued to eye the Xenomorph warily, even after it apparently fell asleep. The creatures were generally quite vicious from what she had seen, but this one seemed to care for Nathaniel;it might have something to do with the fact that he was it's host. But no, she'd seen some people that had survived actual chestbursting, only to be ripped into savagely by the fledgling Xenomorph. There must be something she was missing.

She put it out of her mind, rummaging through the lab's fridge, filled mostly with chemicals and other scientific materials, but also with other foodstuffs she had never taken back to her room. Totaling up their "provisions", they had about two day's worth of leftovers and purified water. She took some old lasagna and bottled water and sat on the hard examination table, chewing noncommittally.

Appearing suddenly behind her, the juvenile Xenomorph brushed against her side. Shrieking, she she nearly splattered her lasagna across the ceiling. Calming herself with a deep breath, she shot a venomous glare at the Xeno, though it seemed not to notice her displeasure. Leaning over, it appeared to sniff at her lasagna, intrigued by its smell. Wrinkling her nose, Natasha pulled the lasagna away from the Xenomorph, setting the plate on a counter. She quickly retrieved an old steak she had stashed in her fridge and placed it in a bowl. She set the bowl on the floor where the Xenomorph had been sitting earlier. The juvenile pounced on it, tearing small chunks out of the meat with its inner mouth.

"You were hungry weren't you?", Natasha quipped, not really expecting an answer, and she was not disappointed, the Xeno not even looking up from decimating it's food. Returning to her own meal, Natasha guessed that it would be several hours before Nathaniel would recover from the strong anesthetic and immune system booster she had given him. It had been included in the first aid kit in the cabinet, along with instructions of how to administer a shot, though she had done that before.

She chewed methodically, grinding the cold rubbery lasagna into a paste; it was revolting. Grimacing, she forced herself to swallow the cold pasta. She ate as much as she could, but eventually hit a wall that could not be passed. Yawning, partially from exhaustion, partially from the dim lights that the glow sticks gave off, she decided that she should probably get some rest. Setting aside her half-empty plate, she swung her feet up onto the pallet, using a stack of papers as a makeshift pillow. Rolling onto her side, she closed her eyes, shivering in the cold chill of the room.

Several seconds later, something shifted, rubbing against Natasha's stomach. She opened her eyes quickly, surprised by the sudden movement. The Xeno had curled up and was nuzzled against her, fast asleep, or what appeared to be sleep. Compared to the cold of the room, the Xeno was actually warmer. She yawned expansively once more, then drifted off into dreams of better times...

* * *

"Jenna, Jenna where are you..."

Natasha forced her eyes open, though gravity fought to push them back to their original position. What time was it? She reached out to slap the snooze button of her clock, only to splatter cold lasagna across the counter as her hand landed in the plate she had left their earlier. _Oh, that's right, trapped in powerless building, Xenomorphs on the loose, just everyday stuff, ya know?_

"Jenna, why..."

Nathaniel still lay in the examination chair, head weakly thrashing, turning from side to side. As his enforced sleep continued fitfully, he murmured, calling out for his late wife, Jenna. The anesthetic would've worn off by now, so it should be plausible that she could just wake him up.

"Nathaniel," Natasha lightly crooned, "Nathaniel it's time to wake up..."

Oblivious to her, Nathaniel continued unhindered, "Why did you leave me, where did you go?"

"Nathaniel," This time more forcefully, but still quiet.

"Jenna!" Nathaniel screamed at the top of his lungs, bolting upright, eyes open, now awake. Tears brimmed his eyes, though he wiped them away with a scrap of cloth. Concerned, Natasha gripped Nathaniel's arm.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, it was just-," His words stumbled, and he paused to wipe tears from his eyes once more, "just a memory."

Looking past Natasha, he choked out, "Well would you look at that," Implying mock sincerity, he clutched his hands together and sighed dreamily, but still slightly shaken, "Oh they grow up so fast..."

Natasha looked where he had, sighting the now fairly large Xenomorph, about the size of a German Shepard, not counting her tail. Frowning, Natasha contributed her thoughts, "it still should have been bigger by now though. It should only take a couple hours at most to grow to full size. It's been at least 12 hours, and it's still roughly half sized."

"She's not an 'it', Natasha."

"Fine. But 'she's' not a human, Nathaniel."

* * *

Now ignoring Natasha, Nate lumbered out of the chair, still disoriented from his wound and subsequent treatment. He walked unsteadily over to the Xenomorph, who had curled up and was sleeping on a children's book. He crouched down on the balls of his feet, the Xenomorph's head raising to look at him. Though it was difficult to see in the dim light, her hard carapace wasn't actually black, but a dark crimson.

"I can't keep calling you 'she', so you need a name," Stroking her smooth head, he pondered this predicament. He had some ideas, but not many.

"Hmm, Annabel? No? Maybe Esperanza? No, that's no good. How 'bout, Ceril? What! no? But I liked that one!"

Though it could be perceived that he was talking to himself, Nate was actually paying close attention to the Xenomorph's emotions which had flashed with dissatisfaction, as well as a slight shake of her head accompanying each proposed name.

"Are you sure you don't want Ceril?"

To this the Xenomorph nodded firmly, though still nearly imperceptible.

"Well, I don't know what else to call you."

The Xenomorph rose to all fours, backing up from where she had been sitting. Underneath was a children's book, with pictures of various plants and animals. The Xenomorph lifted its hand, pointing to one picture in particular, a rose.

"Rose?" The Xeno shook her head, "Then what?"

The Xenomorph gestured more insistently, still pointing at the plant.

"Flower?" Natasha chipped in.

The Xenomorph paused sitting on her haunches, then nodded reluctantly, almost not even a nod. Her emotions carried hints of dissatisfaction and uncertainty, but also a feeling of near success.

"But still not quite right then," Nathaniel mused, "Well, what about Flor?"

The Xenomorph screeched, nodding a vigorous affirmative.

"Flor. Hmm. Well I like it, and you like it, so Flor it is!"

"Flor?" Natasha questioned.

"Flower in Spanish."

"Ah."

The newly-dubbed Flor rubbed her head against his sternum, nearly knocking Nate over. He caught himself with one hand, with the other rubbing her shoulders and smiling fondly. He looked at her shoulders and back, nothing that some of Flor's exterior wasn't true carapace, but seemed a hybrid of skin and chitin, such as where her limbs were jointed; the carapace ended, and the skin between was interspersed with small chitinous plates, still providing protection, albeit less complete protection, but also greater mobility.

Rising to her feet, Natasha said, "Okay, she's got a name. That's great and all, but shouldn't we be looking for a way out this death trap?"

"Sure. We go turn on the generator, then take the elevator up."

"Uh, Nathaniel, the generator melted down."

"Oh," Nate scratched his scalp, he went on to hesitantly provided, "Well, maybe we could climb the elevator shaft to the next floor."

"The fifty feet up?"

"Well," he rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble there, "Hmm. I need to shave..."

"Nathaniel, this is no time to joke around!"

Anger flaring up, Nate burst out, "I don't hear you giving any suggestions!"

Looking down, he sighed, holding up a hand to forestall her.

"No. You're right. We need to focus. Shouldn't there be a staircase, 'in case of fire' or something?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well we can use that!"

"It was next to the generator."

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Nate sat down on the concrete. Scratching the back of his neck, he sighed. "Look. I can't pretend that I have any idea of how to get out of here. I don't have the slightest clue-, what's wrong?"

He stopped, silencing Natasha with a hand. A sense of danger and of-, of wrongness. Uncertainty, fear, and protectiveness pulsed from the bond. Flor was crouched, tail twitching, staring directly at the door to the hallway. From outside came a sound.

_Scrape, Scrape._

Flor was becoming more tense by the moment, prompting Nate to reach behind him, pulling a pistol out from behind the waistband of his pants, surprise forcing Natasha's eyes open, eyebrows rising. She was clearly been oblivious to the fact that he had had one. He quietly rose to one knee, steadying the pistol with both hands. He left the safety on for fear of creating the slightest noise. He motioned Natasha to move away from the door as quietly as possible. She did as prompted, backing away.

_Crunch._

He winced at the noise. Natasha had stepped on a plate, the thin glass breaking into smaller pieces. For a moment there was silence, then a loud screech -not unlike Flor's- as a spider-like Facehugger attached itself to glass window set into the door. Natasha jumped, further agitating the glass shards. Flor hissed threateningly, tail lashing, gaze still directed at the door. Worried, Nate spoke up, "It can't get us, right?"

The Facehugger had an indent on it's underside, and seemed to be exuding a liquid, which burned through the glass where it touched, smoke curling away in wisps.

Sounding strangely calm, Natasha piped up. "Facehuggers can excrete an acid similar to that which makes up their blood, so yes, they can."

"Great."

The Facehugger's improvised entrance was about the size of Nate's hand; the Facehugger squeezed through. Nate took aim, hands steady, flipping the safety off with a click. Before he could fire, Flor pounced on the small creature, ripping into it savagely. She jumped back, impaling it with her bladed tail. The Facehugger twitched once, then lay still, leaking it's deadly life blood.

"Hmm. Efficient."

Nate stood, flipping the safety on and holstering his pistol.

"Where did you even get that?" Natasha questioned.

"I pulled it out of my pants."

"Nathaniel!" Natasha quite nearly squealed.

"No really! I'm serious! Look!"

Nate demonstrated again, flipping the pistol back out.

Natasha sighed covering her brow with her hand. She remained silent for a moment, then spoke up. "Fine. Where did you get it before you put it in your pants?"

Nate smiled mischievously, "I palmed it off of one of the soldiers."

"Nathaniel!"

"What! They won't need it! They've got machine guns! And grenades!"

"No, I mean-, why thats quite nearly resourceful of you!"

"Oh, well, thanks, I guess..."

Natasha eyed the dead facehugger. "Anyway, back to escaping. I suppose the staircase is worth looking into, and we can't really stay here any longer."

"Lead the way..."

* * *

Flor followed on the heels of Thaniel, moving gracefully along the tiles. She was happy, she had defended her symbiote and the host-female, Tasha, from danger, and she had a name. Drones didn't usually want names, did they? She dismissed the issue, it didn't matter, she had one, so the point was moot. She normally wouldn't have harmed the child-carrier, but it would have attacked Thaniel or Tasha, so she stopped it. Forcefully. There had been another one too, creeping up from behind while they were walking, but she had removed that one as well. She doubted they had even noticed it. Hosts' senses were so weak when compared to her own, but she loved them anyway. Well, at least she loved Thaniel. But Thaniel was close to Tasha, so Flor would protect her too.

They came to a crossroads in the Host hive-structure, the path branching out into three directions. Tasha led the way, confidently continuing in the direction they had been going. Flor didn't question her knowledge, it made sense that the female knew where she was going, it was her hive after all.

She opened her mind, listening for anything. The voices returned, nearly drowning out Thaniel from within her head. They were the thoughts of her kin, most of them insane, the rest inconsolable.

_Where is the queen? The queen is gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone..._

_Queen! Where have you gone! Why do you abandon us?..._

Only the most sane of the Xenomorphs were intelligible as words, the rest were simply actions or thoughts. Of the intelligible, none were Drones.

_Eat, kill..._

_Hunger, anger..._

She shut herself off from them once again, fearing their insanity.

* * *

"Nathaniel..."

They had come to a crossroads of sort, two hallways crossing here. Before them stood another Xenomorph, bearing a strong resemblance to Flor. Flor herself crouched at Nate's side, hissing softly, the opposing Xenomorph appearing to size them up. While both Flor and the other Xenomorph were of the same species, their sizes were greatly skewed. Flor was about the same as a medium sized dog, whereas the other stood taller than a large man.

Swearing viciously under his breath, he leveled his pistol at the Xenomorph, though he refrained from firing. Before the alien could make a move or Nate could fire, another Xenomorph barreled out of the other hallway, slamming into the first Xeno. The warring aliens rolled across the floor, a mass of deadly tail strikes and trusting tongue-strikes.

While they fought, Nate pushed Natasha into motion, Flor following on his heels. They evaded around the beasts, continuing on their predetermined course. They escaped down a side passageway, and out of sight of the melee. Though the sounds of the Xenomorphs faded, the apprehension Nate felt only compounded. _We were lucky. Next time there might not be another Xenomorph there to provide a greater threat. We're not out of this yet. Not by a long shot._

* * *

**END OF CHAPTER**

**Author's Note: Boom! Another Chapter! Not sure what to put here. Big thanks to everyone that reviewed or read! Hope you enjoyed! Read Review, Read again! Flames will be used to propagate fuedalism. So what did you guy's think about this chapter? The emotion! The dialoge! Oh, it enough to make a young girl sigh. Most of this was based around Flor and her name. I spent most of 3 days thinking about her name. I got the idea from the spanish name "Floramaria", which I really liked. It was just a tad to long, and I couldn't think up a background for it. So I shortened it to just Flor.**

**P.S. Nothing is cooler than toting around Flor on your shoulder. **


	5. Sacrifice

**Author's note: Hello! I'm back with a vengeance! And a new chapter, obviously. But mostly a vengeance! And a gift. Read, Review, and most of all, Enjoy! Much thanks to everyone who reviewed! Your continued response is what drives me to write. **

* * *

_The Xenomorph Que-Aye-Eff-One, referred to as "Flor" by the two humans we assume she has included in her approximate hive, is a remarkable specimen, both physically and mentally. She has all the normal features of a Xenomorph spawned from a humanoid specimen, albeit about a third smaller than her brethren and lacking the acidic blood so common in her kind, though she is still able to produce it in her saliva, but only in small quantities. She has a musculature well suited to either bipedal or quadrupedal locomotion, but with no apparent preference over the two. She has had little to no interaction with members of her own species, only having a single Xenomorph in her hive, and though it is entirely possible for her to be a member of a hive already, its is more likely that she has formed her own pseudo-hive, taking in the humans that surround her. On the same subject, said humans, one male and one female, show no signs of any fear or worry about their proximity to such a creature, even displaying a sense of camaraderie or friendship, as one would with a close friend or family member. These actions could be easily attributed to the psychological and telepathic capabilities of Xenomorph queens, and she is likely to be influencing their actions or even thoughts, though to what degree of control she has over them is unknown._

_While it is also unknown whether QAF1 is sterile or simply has no suitable male to reproduce with, it is possible that her smaller size and lack of offspring could be a result of early age malnutrition or possibly genetic manipulation, to make the species less dangerous, but if such was the case, the experiment was obviously a failure, for despite the physical degradation shown by specimen QAF1, her mental capabilities are off the charts, as she possesses the same telepathic abilities and sentience as a Xenomorph queen, despite her physical embodiment as a Xenomorph drone._

_Similarly, her continued existence as a drone perplexes me. Previous experiments have shown that when a queen is not already established, is is possible for a drone or royal guard to "transform" into a queen to further proliferate their species. I would have assumed that QAF1 would have done this already, as there are few known queens left on the continent, and none in her relative area of influence._

_During the initial capture of QAF1 and her thralls, a large scar was discovered on the chest of the older male, and was clearly created by a piece of shrapmetal or other such penetrating weapon, but on further examination of the DNA sample taken, it has a remarkable resemblance to that of the pseudo-queen he accompanied, implying that the wound may have allowed a Xenomorph fledgling the pseudo-queen more likely than not, to escape without causing death to the host, which could possibly explain QAF1's continued use of the human and his companion._

_Only continued examination of the alien will yield further results, and I suggest separating the group for solitary confinement to see what affect it will have on the humans twisted by her control._

-A page from the journal of Dr. Fryder

* * *

**CHAPTER 5: Sacrifice**

Nate swore as he nearly tripped for the third time. He teetered, catching himself with a hand on the wall. He righted himself, catching his breath. Flor was sitting on his back, and the extra weight was throwing his balance off.

"Flor, I can't walk straight with you up there."

Flor pointedly ignored him, head resting on his shoulder.

"Fine. Next time I trip, I'm pulling you off."

Most would have thought the position awkward, but Flor seemed to prefer it. She crouched, more than sat, on Nate. Flor stood on his back, claws of her feet hooked in the belt loops of his pants, using her hands to stabilize herself by folding her arms across his shoulders so they crossed in front of him. Posed like this, she was barely able to see over his head, so she set her head upon Nate's shoulder, humming lightly. He had noticed that she did hum, though it was a little different than that of a human, as the vibrations emanated from the center of her chest. She did that almost whenever she sat near or on him, and was almost always accompanied with a warm feeling of companionship. [Good thing I'm wearing a belt, or else Flor would probably be pushing my pants down with her weight.] Nate sighed. He knew, and Flor probably did as well, that if she really liked being on his back, than he would let her, no matter how off balance it made him.

He smiled slightly, thinking about his day. It really hadn't been all that great, though he did have Flor now, which was probably one of the greatest things that had ever happened to him, right up there with meeting Jenna by chance in a little New York coffee shop.

Chuckling. He rubbed the friendly Xenomorph's head. "You're too cute for your own good, you know that Flor?"

The side of Flor's mouth that Nate could see quirked in a sort of smile, imitating his own. He laughed, rubbing her head again, and she rubbed against his hand.

"Isn't she cute Natasha?"

With a smile he turned towards Natasha, who walked next to him, and was highly amused at his balancing antics.

She smiled, and quietly responded, "Absolutely".

From down the corridor, a man stumbled around a corner. He raised a gun swinging it in an arc, eying the space around him. Flor quietly perked up, interest flowing though his bond. Fortunately, Nate's group was in one of the intervals between the widely spaced and dimming emergency lights, so the man probably couldn't see them. Though if they were too loud, then he would probably be able to-

Crack

Looking down, he noted the stick he had broken with his foot when moving to the wall of the corridor.

Hey, who put that there...

The man froze, then slowly turned around, gun arcing back and forth, light clipped to the barrel illuminating a short distance around him, lighting up sheets of dust, like a spotlight shining into a cloudy sky.

"Who- Who's there?!"

Nate stopped, Flor freezing on his back. He shot a look at Natasha, silently worried. He pried Flor of his back, and motioned her and Natasha to stay. They both nodded their affirmative, though worry pulsed through his link with Flor, and showed on Natasha's face.

"Don't shoot!"

When the scientist, for he was clearly that, saw it was another human being, he relaxed, dropping the rifle to his side, and placing a hand to a bandage on his head.

"Thank god! I- I thought I was the only one left. Hey, don't I- don't I recognize you from somewhere?" He paused, taking a moment to think it through, "Taking you to like a- like a, science lab or something like that? I hit my- my head- and I just- just can't remember much- much of anything. Did- did you see anyone else, on your way here..."

As he spoke, Natasha stepped out of the shadows, and the younger man stuttered .

"Nat- Natalie? No- no, thats not right..."

She froze, a look of shock crossed her face, not just from finding someone else alive on this bottom level of the laboratory, but from this particular person, he would assume. She opened her mouth, looking like a fish, then closed it, then opened it again and spoke.

"Wellan, don't you remember me? My name is Natasha."

This "Wellan" nodded weakly, a smile on his face.

"Ah. I- I remember that now. And I remember you," he pointed a shaking finger a Nate, "You were supposed to- supposed to die, but- but you didn't."

Wellan's eyes drifting over Nate's shoulder, apparently catching sight of something in the darkness. A soft gasp escaped his lips, a small smile gracing his young face, but a smile nonetheless.

"And, that's- that's her, then?"

Nate turned around cautiously, worried of a trick of a trick or trap Wellan might be setting, though when he thought about it, the prospect seemed worthy of more than a little ridicule. Behind him, slipping from the shadows was Flor, the diminutive dark red Xenomorph's head cocked to the side, intrigued by this strange human. Looking back he tried to gauge the younger man's reaction, and it wasn't hard. Wellan's face was not one of fear, nor worry, but that of a priest witnessing a holy miracle, or that of a peasant, face upturned, basking in the reflection of his knight's resplendent armour.

"She's beautiful..." He whispered, a single tear leaving a clean streak down his dirty face, like a stream of tan paint down his otherwise gray face. He sunk to his knees, slowing stretching out a shaking, reverent hand towards Flor's smooth carapace skull.

He hesitated, then slowly pressed forward again. His fingers connected; brushing his fingers across her maroon head. He sighed contentedly, Moving forward and hugging her strongly to him. Nate would have laughed for the confusion and awkwardness felt by Flor, except for the oddity and seriousness of the situation. _What kind of sane man can just hug a Xenomorph? I mean, Flor is kind of an exception, though since he didn't know that, it doesn't really matter._

He stuttered, more tears forming in his eyes, releasing Flor. She backed up, looking as a cat might who had had its fur ruffled.

"I- I had to be sure, sure she was real... so- so many others were fake..."

Nate shot a look at Natasha, voicing the unanswered question. She was visibly more than a little worried for Wellan's sake.

"Fake?"

Wellan blinked. "Of course," noting the looks of confusion on Nate and Natasha face, he sighed dramatically, "They- they weren't really queens".

_What?! _Flor recoiled, taking several steps back from the younger man. _I guess she didn't know either. _Protesting, Natasha stepped over to his side.

"Flor can't be a Queen," She looked at Nate, not truly sure of anything, at this point, "I mean, she's still just a drone, right?"

He shrugged in response. "That's how I always thought it worked, but it could be different." _But she's not really a queen, right? _He tried to read Flor's emotions, but they were such a jumble of emotions, worry, elation, confusion, instinct, logic,, intrigue, that it was nearly impossible for him to get any real information out of it.

Wellan stood, taking Natasha's hand to steady himself. _But he could walk just fine a moment ago..._ "No, no, I- I know that. But she- she is a queen nonetheless. And- and my duty as a drone is- was to serve my queen..."

* * *

For the second time in a short while, Natasha was forced to nearly sit down and think this through. _Wellan thinks he's a drone?... How does that even work?_ _Maybe he hit his head harder than I thought..._ She held his arm nervously, not really sure what to do, or say. But what was there to said? _I mean, what kind of response can one give to the confession that he thinks himself a Xenomorph? _Nate stepped up the the other side of Wellan, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Wellan, are- are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I- I will be fine."

A spasm wracked through Wellan's body, pulling him into a curled position, clutching his stomach. Natasha stumbled backwards, worried and more than a little afraid. Nathaniel was a little more pragmatic. He knelt down; a hand on Wellan's grime-covered jacket's shoulder, keeping him steady. Wellan continued to clutch his stomach, and was noisily sick on the floor. Natasha shuddered, turning away from the spectacle.

* * *

Nate helped Wellan to his feet, his attack having gone its course. Wellan coughed, spitting up phlegm and more than a little leftover bile. Nate patted him on the back, hoping to speed along his hacking cough. Wellan caught his breath, turning around to face Nate, grabbing his shoulders. He turned his head, spitting out a last bit of spittle. He took a deep, wheezing breath in, trying to speak. The bandage around his head had slipped, revealing a long scratch around his temples. _What... _Wellan finally managed to work up the strength to speak.

"Don't lose her, don't- don't ever let her go... life- life isn't worth living with- without someone to share it with... I- I've wasted my life here, may- maybe I can finally help someone," He turned his head to look at Flor, "I- I can help her."

Nate nodded numbly, a little lost in the situation. Wellan's piercing blue eyes, the only thing that seemed focused about him, held Nate's attention, like a moth drawn to light. Flor's emotions were now only that of resignation, and sorrow. She understood, just as Nate understood. That long scratch on his temple was nearly identical to one he had received. When he had been implanted with the Xenomorph embryo that had grown into Flor. Wellan had been facehugged.

Wellan spasmed again with pain, arching his back. His legs gave out, bringing him to his knees as he released Nate and pushed him away weakly. Nate stepped away, saddened by both Wellan's words and the fate that would become him. He caught Natasha's shoulder stopping her movement towards the younger man. The expression on Nate's face told her there was nothing that could be done for Wellan. Natasha looked away from Wellan's form which had begun to writhe, burying her tears on Nate's chest. He hugged her close, but watched the gruesome sight that Wellan had so often been a spectator to.

Wellan fell to the ground, barely breathing. A horrible, rending **crunch **resounded through the room, accompanied with the splatter of blood spraying across the flooring. A quiet hiss, the only sound in the room, then Natasha's weeping. He released her, stepping with Flor over to Wellan's corpse. His chest had been smashed open, ribs destroyed, organs rent. His face was in stark contrast. Spattered with his own blood, but calm. At peace with his lot in life, as the sacrifice needed to bring another's life into the world.

Flor jumped atop his chest, investigating the deep, fatal wound that felled the young man. _The chestburster must have ran off already. _And Flor wasn't happy with this, not at all. Displeasure surged through the bond, and she sprinted off into the darkness, following a phantom trail. He let her go, he trusted her, she would return when she was ready.

* * *

Nate sat up against a wall, an arm around Natasha. They had moved several yards down away from Wellan's corpse, waiting for Flor. She had been crying for the last hour since his death, and was now only sniffling lightly. She had had a hard time getting over his death, she had already seen so much of it during the first lab's demise. _Why do they keep making these things, anyway? _A distinctive skittering stucco of clicks told him of Flor's impending return. She walked out of the darkness, something dark clutched in her maw.

"Over here, Flor."

She dropped the dark mass, then nudged it with her clawed hand. The fledgling Xenomorph, for that was what it was, nervously scampered over to the pair of humans. _Never seen one nervous before... _It was the same basic shape as Flor, but stockier, and with a mouth a little larger, and already half as large a Flor, who had all but stopped growing at roughly Nate's size, but she was a little thinner and lighter then Nate. He, for the Xenomorph was clearly a male, walked on all fours to Nate's side. He hesitantly reached out with a clawed finger to poke at Nate's him, then rubbed up against Nate. Nate accepted the rub, scratching at the joints where the neck met the shoulders. Flor crawled atop Nate, laying on him as a human female might lay atop a bed. _She's getting more and more human by the day. And i__t looks like we have a new companion..._

* * *

**End Note: That was probably the goriest scene I've written. Not too bad by other standards though. Right up until I thought about it, really thought about it, I realized that if you wanted to, you could shove all kinds of symbolism into Flor's name, which translates to flower, (which I'll use here interchangeably with rose, which is the flower she points to, but denies as her title). Beautiful to look at, but still dangerous for it's thorns. Divinely majestic, yet delicate. Review, you must! Flames will be used to fend off the creatures of the eternal night...**

* * *

**A bit of response...**

Thanks to Casual reader and CelfwrDderwydd for advice, though I didn't need it too much for this chapter, though there is a bit that I have in mind. Wellan's return was anticipated to be a little more prolonged, but I didn't like the way it was turning, so I changed it. No chance for lemons, sorry, and that is unfortunately how Flor is pronounced. But you can imagine it however you wish...


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